Must the artist suffer? Do the greatest teachers who wring out genius from the rough have to torture the artist? Whiplash examines the grey area of the student-teacher relationship in the most unlikely of places, a music rehearsal room. Instead of metronomes and Mr. Holland’s Opus, the audience plows ahead into an edge of your seat thriller. We don’t suffer nearly as much as the pupil on screen, but your heart will race with adrenaline watching a teacher break down and mold a student. Preposterous you say? Well, Whiplash won both the Grand Jury Prize and the Dramatic Audience Award at Sundance for a reason.All hail J.K. Simmons (2014's Men, Women & Children). This character actor has been around for decades and he finally lands a character where he can show off his chops to the fullest. In fact, his teacher here, Fletcher, is not even a stone’s throw away from the sadistic inmate he played for six seasons on HBO’s Oz. Simmons commands a room in Whiplash with such ferocious fear and intimidation I felt it halfway back in a dark theater. Perhaps Fletcher is a great teacher because he can identify a kid’s potential in a second and know how great he can be. Perhaps Fletcher is the worst teacher because he knows exactly how to worm his way into kid’s psyche and rip him apart from the inside until he is an empty shell.

Late at night in an out of way practice room at the country’s premier jazz conservatory, Fletcher hears potential. Andrew (Miles Teller, 2014's ﻿Divergent﻿) is a freshman drummer working as the alternate and page flipper for the lowest band’s main drummer. Out of nowhere, the great Fletcher swoops in and personally picks Andrew to leapfrog over not just his peers, but his drummer superiors, and slams him smack dab in the conservatory’s premier studio band. So begins the transformation.

Fletcher believes Andrew can be great. I don’t mean great as in very good, but one of the greatest jazz drummers of all time. However, Andrew cannot know this. Ego and the worst phrase in the history of teaching, “good job”, must never enter Andrew’s ears. Using bits and pieces of Andrew’s family life and persistent fear and paranoia that he will be replaced, Fletcher emotionally and at times physically abuses Andrew so he will practice harder, longer, and shut out anything else in his life that is not a drum kit and sheet music.

I want to emphasize just how powerful Whiplash is. The audience is in awe of the on screen punishment producing results. Andrew’s hands bleed all over the snare from over use, sweat streams down the cymbal, and even though his eyes are barely open, Andrew’s hands continue to battle the kit in the vain hope Fletcher will just nod his head in slight approval. We witness Andrew unconsciously incorporate these teaching methods into his character and personality. He commandeers a dinner table conversation and overtly insults the other folks at the table. He condescends to the sweet girl he is dating telling her with no trace of snark she is standing in the way of his greatness.

Whiplash is easily an Oscar nomination for J.K. Simmons. We will not forget Fletcher anytime soon after leaving the theater. Miles Teller takes a break from insipid adolescent mediocrity (Divergent, That Awkward Moment) and gives us a performance as worthy as his breakout role in The Spectacular Now. Writer/director Damien Chazelle, who already filmed one effective thriller based on music, 2013’s Grand Piano, proves he is no one trick pony. He creates an atmosphere in what should be one of the most routine and mundane rooms on the planet, a music rehearsal space, into a room just as deadly as any room with an axe murderer or dangerous animal.

The legend of Charlie Parker and his metamorphosis from jazz wannabe to greatest saxophonist of all time is a frequent plot point. Parker was hounded and ridiculed for making mistakes so he buried himself in gut-wrenching, torturing practice until he returned and made everyone’s mouth drop. Parker also died at 34 of a heart attack after years of heroin addiction.